


Sleepover

by pasiphile



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasiphile/pseuds/pasiphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for prompt: "John/Sherlock/Mary with Sherlock being the cheese between their little sandwich while they frickle frackle"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepover

“Sex.”

“Yep,” John said, with a little nod. Mary felt almost  _proud_ with how well he was doing this.

“You want me to … have sex. With…”

“With both of us, yes,” Mary said cheerfully.

“Right.” Sherlock blinked rapidly. “Not sure I follow entirely.”

“Yeah?” John raised his eyebrows. “Cause I’m not sure how I could make it any clearer. You, Mary, me, having sex. Together.”

“But…” Sherlock blinked again. He looked adorably confused. “But… What happened to you not being gay?”

“It’s not gay if there’s a girl in the middle,” Mary chimed in, before John could even open his mouth. It got her an elbow in the side, but it was worth it for Sherlock’s deep confused frown.

“It isn’t?” he said, baffled.

“What she’s  _meaning_ to say,” John said, with a dark look at Mary, “is that I don’t want to fuck men. I just want to fuck you. And Mary.”

“Yes. I’m…” Sherlock stared in the distance. “I’m not sure if…” He frowned a little and tilted his head, as if the answer was written on the wall and all he needed to do was look hard enough in order to find it.

“Sherlock,” Mary said, firmly. “Let’s give it a go. If it works, great, if it doesn’t, we’ll know for the future. Simple as that. So, yes or no?”

Sherlock gave John a long look, and then Mary.

And then he nodded.

***

Which was how they all found themselves in Mary and John’s bedroom, with Sherlock increasingly reminding her of a panicking horse. She had to suppress the urge to make shushing noises and pat his flanks.

“So, erm.” Sherlock cleared his throat. “What… I mean – ”

“Well, taking off our clothes seems like a good start,” Mary said, grinning.

“Ah. Right, of course, sorry.” He unbuttoned his jacket, avoiding their eyes.

Mary gave John a quick look – she got a smile and a nod in return – and stepped up, stopped Sherlock’s hands. “Let me,” she said, softly.

Sherlock swallowed. His hands dropped back to his sides.

She unbuttoned his jacket and stepped behind his back, pulling it off. He shivered. She ran her hands over his arms and leaned her chin on his shoulder. “John? Would you…”

“Hm?” He cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

While John was concentrating on Sherlock’s shirt, she stroked his back. He was tense, muscles bunched, almost trembling with nervousness. “Still alright, love?” she asked.

No reply.

She gave him a little poke. “Sherlock? Still alright?”

“Oh, you were – ” He looked over his shoulder. He was blushing, very slightly, a pink tinge on his cheeks. “I didn’t realise you meant me. Yes, I’m…” He blinked again, obviously a nervous tic. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” She gently turned his head back to John and helped pulled his shirt off. She’d half expected Sherlock to be all skin and bone, but he was surprisingly fit beneath those suits.

She gave his bicep a squeeze. “How did you get so  _built_ , then?”

“Exercise,” he said curtly.

“Right. John, waiting for something?”

He gave her a quick smile over Sherlock’s shoulder and took his neck, pulled him down.

Mary watched. There was something very appealing about seeing them kiss from this close, especially after all that time she –

Well. Ever since she first saw Sherlock she’d wondered, how it would look if John and he…

And now she had her answer: pretty damn hot. Although Sherlock hadn’t moved his hands yet, was still tense.

John pulled off.  “You kiss like a twelve-year old,” he said, scrunching up his nose.

Mary doubled over, wheezing with laughter. “ _What_?” she gasped, giggling desperately.

“I mean – oh, stop it, you know what I mean,” John said, rolling his eyes. “When you’re a kid and you mess about a bit and just, you know, stick your tongue down their throat and hope for the best.”

“Well,  _fine_ ,” Sherlock snapped, and he turned on his heel, ready to leave. Poor thing.

Mary took his sleeve and pulled him back. “Sherlock, don’t go, he’s joking. Come on,” and she pulled him gently in front of her. “Just copy what I do, it’s simple.”

“Apparently  _not,_ since I’m doing it wrong- _ng_.”

She understood immediately what John had meant: Sherlock kissed like he didn’t have a clue what was happening. Not that it was that bad, really. Kissing was just part skill, part instinct, and part paying attention to the other person, and while Sherlock was a bit shit at the first two, he  _was_ good at the third.

And he learned quickly. The tip of his tongue gently touched her lip, went deeper. His hand came up to her neck, holding her, his thumb stroking just below her ear. She smiled against his mouth.

A loud cough. She slowly pulled back and turned her head. John was blushing, eyes wide, mouth hanging open a bit. Hah, not the only one who thought it was hot to watch two people kiss, was she?

Sherlock looked at John and cocked his head. “Why aren’t you jealous?” he asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

“I, er, don’t know?” John said. “Should I be?”

“It’s the most common reaction to seeing your partner make sexual advances towards someone else.”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit different if you’ve invited them to a threesome first, though, isn’t it?” Mary pointed out, grinning.

Sherlock frowned at her. “Then why does – ”

She jabbed him. “Sherlock. Less talking, more sexual advances.” She steered him around and pushed him at John.

John immediately snagged Sherlock by the neck and pulled him into another kiss. So much for her doubts about how he’d deal with the whole guy-on-guy thing.

She wrapped her arms around Sherlock’s waist from behind and slowly slid her hand down. Listened to the way Sherlock’s breath caught, the little noises John made. She closed her eyes.

She’d lived a life where every moment of peace was something precious, to be enjoyed to the full, and this – even though the tension was coming off Sherlock in waves and John wasn’t still entirely at ease as well – was about as peaceful as it came, to her.

She opened her eyes again and gently palmed Sherlock’s cock. Not hard yet, but she’d honestly be surprised if he had been, not when he was still this nervous.

Although he did react to her touch. A little noise at the back of his throat, a very small movement of his hips. She pressed a kiss against his nape.

John’s fingers were tangled in Sherlock’s curls. Funny, how out of all the thing  _that_ seemed to be the sexiest of them all.

She let go of Sherlock’s crotch and pulled at his belt buckle. His fingers briefly touched her wrist and then pulled away again, as if he had wanted to help but thought the better of it.

The clunk as his belt hit the floor seemed to break the spell. John pulled back again and licked his lips. Sherlock took a deep breath. “So…” he started. He sounded a little hoarse.

“Clothes off all around, I’d say,” Mary said, giving Sherlock’s bum a pat.

“Right. Come here, you.” John took her hand and pulled her close. She smiled and pecked him on the lips before starting to tug at his shirt.

It was one of her favourite bits about sex with John, really. Just undressing each other, the careful touch of his hands on her skin, the way he frowned in concentration when he fiddled with buttons and hooks… As well seeing him go more relaxed, less rigid, as his clothes were peeled off him and he could leave behind his responsibilities and just  _be_.

It was at times like this it really hit her just how  _much_  she loved him.

She smiled at him. He smiled back and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

But this wasn’t just about the two of them, not now. She turned her head. Sherlock had frozen mid-way taking off his second shoe. The expression on his face… It wasn’t one she could read, and she was generally  _good_ at things like that.

“Sherlock?” she prompted.

“Yes, fine.” He bent down and unlaced his second shoe.

John gave her a look. She shrugged.

“So, bed?”

Sherlock pulled his socks off and nodded. Still nervous, poor man. But, well, who wasn’t, their first time? Even though this particular first time came a bit later than average.

Sherlock sat down on the bed, one leg folded underneath him. Thank god he wasn’t shy – but she had known that, she’d heard enough of John’s stories about Sherlock wandering in bollock-naked during a video conference, showing up at Buckingham Palace in nothing but a sheet.

She poked John in the shoulder. “You sit at the head of the bead, alright?”

He gave her a smiling salute and got on the bed behind Sherlock.

“Does she always tell you what to do?” Sherlock asked, mocking.

“Fifty percent of the time, yeah,” John said easily.

Mary snorted.

“Alright, er, more like three fourths.”

“But you enjoy it,” Sherlock said. “Of course you do, military man, used to orders. Must be – ”

“Sherlock,” John said. “Shut up.”

Sherlock’s mouth snapped shut.

“What did you say again about enjoying orders?” Mary asked. Sherlock glared at her, but she ignored it and knelt on the bed next to him. “So, out of curiosity: this,” she waved a hand at herself, “is doing nothing for you?”

Sherlock’s ice-blue eyes slowly went over her body. And then he shrugged. “No. Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t. And John?”

Sherlock snorted. “Please, if I got sexually aroused by seeing John naked we would have both known it longer than today.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “Sorry, what?”

“Oh, come,” John said. “That was  _one_ time – ”

“At least five, possibly – ”

“ _No_ , Sherlock, it doesn’t count if you barge into the bathroom unannounced while you _knew_ I was taking a shower, so – ”

“ _Boys_.”

They stopped bickering and turned to her.

“Sex,” she said. “Remember? So, Sherlock, I’m going to go down on you, if that’s okay with you?”

Sherlock blinked. “That’s… remarkably forward of you. Do you always announce what you’re going to do when you’re having sex?”

“No, but I reckoned you’d be too bloody stubborn to actually share what you like and don’t like, so I’d play safe and ask.”

He scrunched up his nose. “I don’t  _know_ what I like and not, that’s the problem. I haven’t – ”

“Sherlock.” She patted his thigh. “It’s fine, we know. Like I said, let’s just try things and see what works, alright? So?”

He nodded. “Yes, go ahead.”

She put her hand on his stomach and bent down. He still wasn’t properly hard, but at least he wasn’t completely flaccid either anymore. Which was a bit of a relief, to be honest: she hadn’t been looking forward to attempting to have sex with someone who took no enjoyment in it at all.

He gasped when she took him in his mouth. “That’s – ”

“Yeah, I know,” John said. She looked up and smiled at him – well, mostly just with her eyes, but he got the message. “Actually you’re pretty lucky. My first blowjob was pretty awful.”

“Yes, I know,” Sherlock said, eyes half-closed like a happy cat.

“How the  _hell_ did you – don’t tell me you  _deduced_ that.”

Mary pulled off with a wet  _plop_. “No, I told him that.”

“You – ” John started.

“I was fishing, alright? Trying to find out – ”

“What, Sherlock’s opinion on blowjobs?”

“Yes, actually.” She ignored John’s spluttering and focused back on Sherlock. His eyes had fallen closed a little, and his blush had deepened. Pretty good signs, all things considered. “Still fine?” she asked him.

“Perfectly,” he said, and added, with an imperious wave of his hand, “keep doing that.”

“Right,” she said, smirking. “Got it.”

She went back down, giving a teasing lick to the head of Sherlock’s now fully hard cock. Damn, but he was hard to read. Not that he didn’t react at all, but he was too – too in control. Still not relaxed, was he?

She looked up at him. He wouldn’t have managed it without John, of that much she was sure. It was clear from his white-knuckled grip on John’s arm, like that was all that was keeping him afloat.

Sherlock’s other hand touched her shoulder, hesitantly. Anyone else would’ve grabbed her hair by now, and she smiled. For all that he really was a bit of an arsehole, he could be surprisingly charming sometimes.

She pulled off again and sat up, running her hand through her hair. “Right. Feel like a change-up?”

Sherlock scooted up a little, half-turning as if he was searching support from John. “I thought you were…”

“We’re going for the full experience,” John said.

“Can’t make an informed decision without knowing all the possible choices,” Mary added. She stretched her back. “Speaking of, condom?”

“Oh, right, on it.” He reached for the bedside table – keeping his leg leaning against Sherlock, the sweetheart – and got a condom from the drawer. “There we are. So, er..”

"Be polite and help him, John," Mary said, grinning.

“Right.” He licked his lips, ripped the packaging and pulled Sherlock a bit more upright, giving him access to Sherlock’s cock.

Sherlock had gone quiet again, watching them both, with that inscrutable look on her face.

“We do want you here, you know,” Mary said, on impulse.

“Yes, I…” He coughed. “I know that.”

She cocked her head. “Do you?”

John squeezed Sherlock’s shoulder. “We don’t  _have_ to do this, you know,” he said. “If you’d rather wait, if you’re not – ”

“No.” Sherlock shook his head. “No, it’s… keep going. You’re right, the full experience, was it?”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Mary said.

“ _Yes_.” He rolled his eyes in annoyance, a very  _sherlocky_ thing to do. “Will you just get  _on_ with it and stop fretting?”

“Fine, fine. John?”

He reached for Sherlock’s cock. There was a split second of hesitation – this was all pretty new for him too, after all – but then he manned up and rolled the condom on.

Sherlock breathed in deeply. “That’s… Can you…”

“Not yet,” Mary said gently.

Job done, John let go of Sherlock’s cock and leaned back again, as if he was handing Sherlock over to her care. 

Mary moved up, straddling Sherlock’s hips. He was watching her very closely, but she’d grown used to that by now. Besides, he was still hard, no immediate need to worry.

She guided Sherlock’s cock inside and slowly sank down. Sherlock’s fingers dug into John’s forearm, making John wince. Sherlock didn’t notice, though. His breathing had gone a bit weird again.

“Alright?” she asked gently.

“Will you  _stop_ asking that?” Sherlock snapped. “It’s getting annoying. If I’m not I will  _tell_ you.”

“Fine, fine.” She raised her hands in innocence. “I won’t ask again. Although you could try to look less like you’re dismantling a nuclear bomb.”

“What?” he asked, clearly confused.

“Like even the tiniest slip-up is going to blow us all up. Sherlock, love, there’s  _no wrong way of doing this_.”

He looked aside, face a mask of frustration. One of his hands brushed her leg, her hip. “I just don’t want – ” and that was about all he could get out.

She met John’s eyes.

“Sherlock,” John said, in that calm firm no-nonsense voice. “Trust us. Alright?”

He nodded, tightly. But, well, in the end talking about it only got you so far, while doing it…

She leaned her hands on Sherlock’s chest and rolled her hips. The hand on her thigh squeezed hard. John’s breath hitched.

She blinked and looked up at John. His eyes were wide, dark, fixed on her. She rocked her hips again, fell into the rhythm John tended to like best, slow, taking him as deep inside as she could before pulling back again, riding that slow warm build-up, all the while keeping eye contact with John – at least she did until a moan sounded.

She tore her eyes away from John and looked down. Sherlock’s eyes were shut, mouth open, wet. His fingers were digging into her hips. He looked very  _human_ , for once.

She leaned down, putting most of her weight on him, on his chest. He gasped, eyes flying open, looking everywhere like a panicked animal before finally meeting her eyes.

“Careful,” John said, and his voice had gone into that deep, slightly husky sex-voice tone. “You, er – ”

“Yeah.” She leaned down further and pecked Sherlock’s mouth. “Pity,” she whispered. “You’ll have to wait for a bit more.”

Sherlock shivered. Hmm, another one on the list, then. She raised her eyebrow at John – cheeky bugger had been  _convinced_  Sherlock wouldn’t respond well to being told what to do, but hey, here they were, with Sherlock still hard inside of her.

She sat up and pulled back, wincing at the sudden feeling of  _emptiness_  and eliciting a moan from Sherlock. “Glove?” she asked John.

“They’re still in my doctor’s bag, aren’t they? I’ll have to – ”

She grabbed a pillow, lifted Sherlock’s hips and shoved it underneath. “No, I stole a couple and stuffed them in the drawer.”

“You know, that’s strictly speaking theft,” John said, leaning out of the bed.

“Yes, ‘cause we’re all such good law-abiding citizens here, aren’t we?”

Sherlock snorted. Got his brain back, then. “I doubt stealing half a dozen of latex gloves is going to get us arrested,” he said.

He was watching Mary again, but this time he seemed – lazy, sated. Happy. She put another pillow beneath Sherlock’s back. “Exactly. Comfy?”

“Reasonably, yes. Are you going to…”

“Yep. Objections?”

“None for the moment.”

John handed her a glove and a bottle of lube. “So,” he started, addressing Sherlock, and despite the sex-voice he sounded a bit teachery. Same voice he used for his patients just before he would probe them with something cold and intrusive. “This is probably going to feel a bit weird and uncomfortable at the start, but it’s kind of worth it.”

“Yes, all the squirming and moaning seems to indicate it’s at least somewhat pleasurable. Either that or porn stars aren’t given enough credit for their acting skills.”

Mary looked up from her fiddling with the gloves. “You’ve watched  _gay porn_?” she asked, delighted.

“Research,” Sherlock said defensively. “And curiosity. With all the fuss people keep making about sex…”

“And?” She gave the glove one last pull and reached for the lube. “Now you’ve seen it from the other side… Conclusions so far?”

“I  _might_ start to understand all the excitement,” he said grudgingly.

John laughed. “Not, er,  _alarmed_ then?”

“Not even remotely. Although I’d appreciate it if you two don’t start moaning things like  _yeah baby_ and  _give it to me big boy_.”

Mary paused, staring into the distance. “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m not ever going to forget that.”

“Yeah, me neither,” John said. He sounded a bit shellshocked.

“Alright.” Mary squeezed Sherlock’s knee. “Spread your thighs, please.”

Sherlock opened his legs. Mary squeezed out some lube onto her hand and leaned down. Sherlock winced as she touched him, followed by a derisive scrunch of his nose when she started to work her finger inside.

“You’re right, this isn’t very…”

“Yeah, I know,” John said. “If it’s not your thing, Sherlock, that’s fine, really.”

“For the moment? Not really, no.”

“Just wait a bit,” Mary advised him.

She took her time, going slow, doing everything she could not to hurt him. After a bit of time the irritated expression on his face started to go away.

“I might change my opinion after all,” he said, a little breathless, as she slowly stroked inside of him, brushing her fingers against his prostate.

“Fabulous.” She gave John a significant look. He blinked, confused. She rolled her eyes, jerked his chin at Sherlock’s crotch, and gave him another pointed look. John’s mouth opened in an  _oh_ of realisation.

He got out from underneath Sherlock, making sure he was leaning comfortably against the pillows, and shifted to sit at Sherlock’s side. He licked his lips – nervous again – and took Sherlock’s cock.

Sherlock gasped.

“Too much?” Mary asked, stopping her fingers. “Not enough? Anything – ”

“No, it’s – it’s good. All good.” He was watching John’s hand with wide eyes. Normally she’d say he was trying to learn, watching what John was doing so he could copy it later, but right now he just looked so… overwhelmed, really.

Mary smiled and continued fingerfucking Sherlock, slow and slick, while John occupied himself with Sherlock’s cock. He was finally starting to react, panting, squirming a little, biting his lip. Really hot, all of it. Mary shifted uneasily, squeezing her thighs together. For all that this was meant to be about Sherlock, she had needs as well.

And so did John. She poked him in the side and raised her eyebrows in question. He nodded and pulled his hand back.

Sherlock scowled. “Why did you stop? That was  _good_ , I – ”

“Full experience,” Mary said. She pulled her fingers out and pulled the glove off. “You’re going to fuck me while John fucks you.”

Sherlock’s mouth opened. No sound came out.

He cleared his throat, blinked a few times, tried again. “I – Do I have any say in the matter?”

“’Course you do,” John said, rolling on a condom. “You can say no anytime you want, and you know that, and you haven’t yet. So…”

“Right.” Sherlock licked his lips. His eyes were skipping between her and John, nervous, excited. “That’s – Okay. Good. Where, I mean, how do I…”

Mary sat down at the head of the bed and spread her legs. “Turn around and c’mere,” she said, holding her arms out to him. “John’s behind you, okay?”

Sherlock nodded and rolled around, onto his knees. She doubted he would have accepted her behind his back, out of his vision, where he couldn’t see what she was going to do, predict her. But John, good old reliable trusted John, that would be fine.

She tangled her fingers in Sherlock’s curls and kissed him again. He really  _was_ a quick learner. He took her throat, fingertips playing against the line of her jaw, nipping gently at her lip.

And then he froze.

“Am I – ” John started. His voice was shaking. “Sherlock, is this alright?”

Wasn’t just Sherlock’s cherry being popped right now, was it?

“He looks fine, John,” she said, grinning. Sherlock’s mouth had fallen open again, and his arms were trembling. She stroked his hair away from his forehead and kissed him again, feeling every shiver while John pushed inside.

And then John stopped moving. No sound except for all their heavy breathing. Sherlock’s eyes were closed, eyebrows drawn, like he was fighting desperately to keep in control.

She sat up a little – awkward though it was, with John at Sherlock’s back – and nipped gently at Sherlock’s neck. He jolted in her arms.

“Sherlock,” she said softly. “Fuck me.”

“I – yes.”

She angled her hips. He shivered when he pushed in – hell, they were all shaking a bit at this point. Even Mary was starting to feel it, the newness and unfamiliarity, this strange heavy feeling of having not one but two other bodies connected to you.

Funny, really. All the things the three of them had done, the things they’d faced without even blinking, and simple sex was enough to send them all into – into what, nervousness? Or something even more than that? She’d never seen Sherlock this vulnerable before, that was sure.

But she was starting to have trouble keeping her thoughts straight. Sherlock’s movements were awkward, uncoordinated, but still  _good_. She arched her back, pushing against him. She could hear John’s familiar noises, the grunts and moans. Sherlock was a silent one, which made the occasional gasp or moan all the more exciting. The muscles in her thighs were twinging with the effort of pushing back and keeping her legs that wide. Her orgasm was starting to creep up on her, but…

Sherlock fell forward against her, one arm supporting him on the mattress. Mary grabbed his hand and pulled his fingers to her clit.

His eyes opened again and he scrambled up a little, trying to look at her, frowning in confusion. His teeth had left two little indents in his lower lip, she couldn’t help but notice.

“Sherlock,” she gasped. “Please.”

“I don’t – ” he said, frustrated. His fingers were trembling against her.

“Shut up.” She changed her grip and directed his touch, using him the way she would a vibrator, pushing and pulling impatiently until he was rubbing exactly where she needed it.

She threw her head back, arched her spine. Almost let Sherlock’s cock slid out of her, damn this awkward position. She adjusted and clawed at the sheets. John was looking at her over Sherlock’s back – and so was Sherlock, those ice-eyes focused on her even through his arousal, and that –

She cursed and came, pressing Sherlock’s fingers against her, shaking. She could hear someone moan loudly. Sherlock kissed her, hot and clumsy, but she couldn’t care less at this point. She grabbed his curls and kissed back, every so often jolting when an aftershock hit her.

Sherlock pulled away and dropped his head forward. She reached out held Sherlock’s shoulder. John’s hand covered hers. She closed her eyes, revelled in it.  _This_ was what she had wanted since she first saw John and Sherlock together. No more awkward dancing around, no more distance, no more hurt. Just this closeness.

She opened her eyes again. John was close to coming; she recognised that face, the change in pitch of his voice, his hands twisting.

“He’s about to finish,” she said to Sherlock, feeling absurdly like laughing.

“Not – not the only one,” Sherlock gasped, half laughing.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d been – not so much worried but cautious around the idea of Sherlock and sex. But there was nothing but enjoyment on his face now.

John came, with a deep grunt and a few stuttering thrusts. Sherlock’s eyes went wide again. Mary clenched down deliberately around him, and John’s hand closed around Sherlock’s throat.

Sherlock when he came was unlike anything else she’d ever seen. Finally he’d lost all that constant control, that closed-offness. There wasn’t anything guarded about him now, the way he sobbed and groaned and clenched his fist, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wet and open.

He lost his support and fell down heavily on top of her. She patted his shoulder. He was still shaking a bit, and having him pressed this close was doing nothing for her re-awakening libido.

John fell down next to her. She turned her head. “Well?” she asked lazily.

“That was…” John blinked at the ceiling. “Wow. Yeah. Pretty good.” He looked at her, at Sherlock, and smirked. “Think we might have broken him.”

Sherlock mumbled something. Mary patted his back again. “Temporarily out of service, more like.”

“Hm. And you, are you…?”

“Could do with another, actually,” she admitted.

“Right,” John said firmly. “Sherlock, please get off my wife, will you?”

Sherlock got up onto his elbows, pulled out, and toppled onto his side. His fingers fumbled with the condom. Still dazed, wasn’t that  _adorable_? Mary leaned over, pulled the condom off, and threw it off the bed.

John scooted down and lowered his head between her thighs. Mary tangled her fingers in his hair. “Don’t draw it out, love,” she said.

“Got it.” He slowly licked over her, and then sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it. Mary’s fingers tightened in his hair and she squirmed, heels digging into the mattress.

“I thought you already…” Sherlock’s voice. She looked aside.

“Hmm?”

“Ah, yes, shorter refractory period, multiple orgasms. Sorry, don’t mind me.”

“Hmm.” John pushed two fingers inside of her and angled up. She arched from the bed. “Keep – keep doing – ”

He hummed and sucked hard. She flailed, feeling her orgasm build, and somehow caught hold of Sherlock’s hand. She squeezed hard and pulled until she had Sherlock’s mouth against hers. She shook when she came, moaning into his mouth, the gentle touch of his tongue against her mouth sending little shivers down her spine.

John crawled back up, keeping his palm against her cunt, seeing her through the aftermath. He licked his lips and smiled at her.

“God,” she said, laughing, once she had her breath back. “A girl could get used to this.”

Sherlock pulled a face and ran his thumb over his lip. “You  _bit_.”

“Yeah, she does that,” John said, grinning. “Don’t worry, it’s not that hard, you won’t see a thing tomorrow.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Obviously. Now lie down and sleep.” And right on cue, John yawned. Mary giggled and pulled him against her, pillowing his head on her chest. She threw her other arm out until she found Sherlock’s shoulder and pulled him close as well.

After a while his arm came around her waist. She snuggled closer and waited.

A few moments later, John started to snore. He had mastered that soldier’s trick of falling asleep immediately whenever the opportunity arose. Unless he had nightmares, but that seemed unlikely now.

Mary kept her breathing slow. Maybe ten minutes passed before Sherlock stirred. He gently pulled his arms back and slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb John. He scrounged his clothes up from wherever he had left them and tiptoed outside.

Mary waited until he was out of the bedroom, and then she carefully followed him to the living room. She closed the door softly behind her and leaned against it.

Sherlock was buttoning his shirt, avoiding her eyes.

“Leaving, then?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Sherlock said, shrugging on his jacket. “I thought – ”

“You’re welcome to stay, if you want.”

“Yes, but I… I  _need_  some time to – ” He bit his tongue, frustrated.

“To process it all? Yeah, fine. But Sherlock?”

He tied his scarf. “Yes?”

“We didn’t really mean this to be a one-time thing,” she stared. He frowned at her. “You know, something to spice up our married life? We wanted you to – only if it worked out, of course, if you liked it – but we wanted you to be part of – of us.” She smiled. “You’re practically married to John anyway.”

He blinked again. “Yes. I’ll… I’ll take that into consideration. Thank you.”

“Night, Sherlock.” She stepped close and kissed him on the cheek, and then she went back to the bedroom.

A couple of minutes later she could hear the main door fall closed.

“He’s left, then?” John mumbled.

“Yep. You were right.”

“Hm, told you so.” He raised his arm and she crawled underneath it, cuddling close.

“But I have a feeling he’ll come back,” she added, and John smiled.


End file.
